Run Before the Wind

by Stuart Woods

  The significance of the documents now in the hands of the Prosecutor lies not so much in the dealings of Avondale, but, The Observer has learned, in the personal dealings of Mr. Derek Thrasher himself. It is believed that the documents may shed light on how one of Europe’s most reclusive and, it is rumoured, wealthiest businessmen conducts his affairs.

  Mr. Thrasher has for some time been seen rarely in public, most recently in mid-November, when he dined at the Connaught Hotel in the company of Mrs. Genevieve Wheatley, widow of Mr. Winston Wheatley MP, Mr. William H. “Billy” Lee, former governor of the State of Georgia, USA, Mrs. Lee and their son, and Lady Jane Berkeley, eldest daughter of the Duke of Kensington. Governor Lee, reached at his home in Atlanta, said that he had not met Mr. Thrasher before that evening, nor since; that he had been introduced to Mr. Thrasher at the dinner by his son, William H. Lee IV, apparently a friend of Lady Jane. “We found him very pleasant company,” Governor Lee said. He denied any business connection with Mr. Thrasher and said the evening was purely social in nature.

  Two days following that dinner a car bomb was set off in Berkeley Square, outside a building occupied by a construction firm owned by Mr. Thrasher, and credit for the explosion was later claimed by the Irish Freedom Brigade, a radical offshoot of the Provisional IRA, who said they had a quarrel with the company’s hiring practices on several Northern Ireland building sites. It is believed that, because of the explosion and the possibility of threats on his life, Mr. Thrasher has since become even more reclusive. Prior to the explosion he apparently resided in a house adjacent to the office building, according to reports from people who know him, but now none of those people nor anyone else can say with any certainty even what country hé now resides in.

  The spokesman for the Director of Public Prosecutions said that it may be several days or weeks before a decision is made whether to charge Mr. Thrasher or his employees with violations of the law.

  Mark stopped reading and sat down heavily. “Oh shit,” he said.

  We were hard at work on the boat the next morning when a man in a business suit, carrying a briefcase, turned up at the boatyard. Finbar took the man into his office and talked with him for a moment, then asked Mark to join him. Mark motioned for me to come with him.

  “This is Mr. Murray, my bank manager in Cork. Mr. Murray, this is Captain Robinson and Mr. Lee.”

  “How are you this morning, gentlemen?” Mr. Murray was very cheerful.

  “Very well, thank you,” Mark replied, with equal cheer.

  “Ah, that’s a fine looking craft you’ve got building, there.”

  “Thank you very much; Finbar is doing a fine job on her. You’re lucky to have such a customer.”

  “Ah, yes, Finbar’s been with us forever.” Murray then became a bit more serious. “Ah, Captain Robinson, I wanted just to ask you about something …” I knew what was coming. “… your next periodic payment on the building of your boat … let’s see … ” he put on his glasses and consulted a paper … “That’s thirty-three thousand, four hundred pounds sterling… is due in two days’ time, on Wednesday. I believe that’s correct?”

  Mark nodded affably. “It is indeed.”

  “Right. Ah, Captain Robinson, do you anticipate any difficulty in meeting that payment on that date?”

  Mark appeared surprised. “Why do you ask, Mr. Murray?”

  “Well, you see, we provide Finbar with financing for his working capital, and, of course, we’re very concerned that his clients are able to meet their obligations.”

  “I anticipate no difficulty in meeting my obligations, Mr. Murray. My sponsor has been prompt in his payments, and I’ve no reason to expect him to be any less so on this occasion,” Mark replied smoothly.”

  “Ah, good, your sponsor … that would be a Mr. Derek Thrasher, would it?”

  Mark wrinkled his brow but maintained his composure. “My sponsor prefers to remain anonymous, Mr. Murray, but may I ask why you think it might be this … Mr. Thrasher?” I was glad Murray was looking at Mark and not at me.

  “Well, Finbar … ” Murray turned and looked for confirmation from Finbar, who was looking very embarrassed.

  “I’ve never told Finbar the name of my sponsor, Mr. Murray,” Mark said easily, “so anything he may have told you in that regard would merely be speculation on his part.”

  “Well, now, Captain Robinson, we’re all in business together here, so to speak; you may be sure that anything you tell me will remain in the strictest confidence.”

  “I have nothing to tell you, Mr. Murray. I’ve already said that my sponsor prefers to remain anonymous, and I must respect his wishes in that regard.”

  “Well, let me put it this way, then, if I assumed that your sponsor is this Mr. Thrasher, would I be going too far astray?” Murray accompanied this with a wink and a grin.

  “I think it would be best for all concerned if you made no assumptions at all, Mr. Murray.” Murray’s face fell; he was suddenly less cheerful. “And if you should choose to make assumptions along those lines I think it would be in the bank’s interests if you kept your assumptions closely to yourself.”

  Murray was looking decidedly annoyed, now. “Captain Robinson, do you deny that your sponsor is, in fact, Mr. Derek Thrasher?”

  “I do not deny it, Mr. Murray, nor do I confirm it.”

  Murray produced Sunday’s Observer from his briefcase and handed it to Mark. “Have you seen this, Captain?”

  Mark glanced at the newspaper. “I read both The Observer and The Sunday Times quite thoroughly yesterday.”

  “Well, now, Captain, unless you will deny it and give me the name of your sponsor and a means of confirming his participation and his intention of continuing his sponsorship, I am going to have to proceed on the basis that your sponsor is, in fact, Mr. Thrasher. As you can see from this report, Mr. Thrasher seems to be in considerable difficulties with the authorities at the moment, and the bank is very concerned that these difficulties may prevent him from continuing his sponsorship.”

  Mark stood up. “Mr. Murray, you may proceed on any basis you wish. It is my intention to meet my obligations to Finbar; I have no obligation of any sort to you or your bank. My bankers are Coutts & Company of Cadogan Place, London, as they were my father’s and my grandfather’s. If you feel you need reassurance of my credibility or character you may feel free to contact them for a reference.” Mark delivered this quietly, almost kindly.

  Murray was turning red, now. “Captain Robinson, I feel I must tell you that if your payment to Finbar is not made by the close of business on the fifteenth, the day after tomorrow, the bank will feel it necessary to take immediate steps to protect its interests. I—”

  Mark stuck out his hand. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murray; now I must bid you good day; we have a lot of work to do.” He left the office, and I followed him. Finbar remained with the banker.

  “Jesus, Mark,” I whispered to him as we walked toward the boat, “didn’t you come on a little strong with him? It’s not going to do us any good to have him mad with you, especially in the circumstances.”

  Mark stopped and turned to me. “Willie, my father told me a long time ago never to be intimidated by a banker. I’m not about to start now, especially with a little shit like that one. Look at it this way—bankers sell money, customers buy it. Finbar is the customer in this case. If I’d sucked up to that fellow he’d have known immediately that we had no money, and he’d have had his solicitors all over us. As it is, he may back down and wait a bit, even if we’re late. There’s at least a chance of that. It’s a lot of trouble for a bank to foreclose, and Finbar’s a good customer. We’ll be all right for a few days. In the meantime, let’s just keep hoping Derek comes through.”

  Finbar showed the banker out and joined us. He looked very angry. “I’m sorry about that, Captain,” he said to Mark. “He’s got no call to come around here like that. I’ve always paid those people on time. Well, nearly always.”

 
“It’s all right, Finbar. Something I’d like to know, though. Where did you hear that my sponsor was Derek Thrasher?”

  Finbar looked embarrassed. “Ah, it was just a rumor. I’m sorry I mentioned it to Murray, but I thought it’d put him off a bit if he knew there was somebody big behind your project.”

  “When did you hear the rumor, Finbar, and where?”

  “Oh, a while back. A week or two, I guess. That’s when I told Murray. He was all impressed, he was; then he saw that thing in the paper.”

  “And where did you hear it? Who told you that?”

  “Oh, it’s not important, Captain.”

  Mark put his hand on Finbar’s shoulder. “Finbar, I must know.”

  Finbar rubbed the back of his neck angrily. “Well, I’m something of a republican, you know. My father was a fighter during the troubles. I think some of the lads thought if I knew that Thrasher was involved I’d back off the project, what with the Provos being after him and all, but I’d made an agreement, and I’ll stick to it. Murray can go fuck himself; I’ll—”

  “Finbar.”

  “It was Denny O’Donnell told me,” Finbar said, then shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off toward the boat.

  Mark stood, frozen, looking at Finbar’s back. It was the first time I had ever seen him shaken by anything. This was bad, and it was my fault.

  25

  THAT EVENING I TELEPHONED Jane in Paris, but she had still not heard from Derek Thrasher.

  “Have you seen the London papers?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think? Is he in a lot of trouble?”

  “I don’t think we should talk about this on the telephone. I’ll tell you all about it when you come to Paris. I’m looking forward to seeing you New Year’s.”

  I said goodbye and hung up.

  “Any luck?” Mark asked.

  I shook my head. “She’s heard nothing. How did you get in touch with Thrasher in the beginning?”

  I met him at the Royal London Yacht Club Ball during Cowes week, only a few days before we met you. We met at the club the next day for me to show him the plans for the yacht and go over my budget projections. Couldn’t have been together for more than half an hour. I suppose he did some checking up on me, during the next couple of days, and the next time I saw him was when you were with us. I haven’t seen him since. He didn’t give me a mailing address, just the number on the card, the same one he gave you. The one that’s now disconnected.”

  “Well, I suppose his mailing address was the house I visited in London, next door to his office building. Why don’t you send him a telegram there? The papers say he isn’t there anymore, but he must have some means of having mail and messages forwarded.”

  Mark jumped up and grabbed the phone. “Bloody good idea! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”

  Mark dictated a brief telegram to the cable operator, addressing it to “D.T.” at the Berkeley Square address. “Please telephone me soonest. Most urgent. Mark.” He instructed the operator to have the telegram delivered to the door first thing Tuesday morning.

  “Mark, how could Denny O’Donnell even have gotten a whiff about Derek? It seems impossible.” I had a sinking feeling that I knew how, and I was hoping Mark would have another, better idea.

  “Only you, Annie, and I know about Thrasher, at least you two are the only people I’ve told. Thrasher could hardly object to your knowing, since you were both there when the deal was done.”

  “And I told Connie,” I said. And Connie had told at least one other person.

  “Well, it’s done, now; word’s out in all the worst places. The next step is damage control.”

  “Damage control?”

  “A navy expression. When you take a hit on a ship you stop worrying how you got hit. You just do what you can to keep the water out.”

  “What can we do?”

  Mark walked to the sideboard, poured himself a scotch, and knocked back half of it. “I don’t know,” he said. There was despair in his voice, something I had never expected to hear from him.

  I thought there was one small thing I might do. I went to Connie’s.

  She took the news angrily. “You just don’t understand. Maeve is sequestered at the convent. She only gets out to do the shopping, and I’m the only person she sees.”

  I shook my head. “She’s seeing someone else.”

  “She is not. She wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I want you to tell her something else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell her that Thrasher is out, that he’s no longer Mark’s sponsor.” For all I knew that might be the case.

  “Is he?”

  “We haven’t heard a word from him. We can’t get in touch with him. The next payment to the boatyard is due the day after tomorrow, and we don’t have it. Tell her that Mark is selling the family farm in Cornwall to get enough to finish the boat.” I knew that Mark could not legally sell the farm because of a stipulation in his grandfather’s will.

  “Is he?”

  “It’s the only possible way he could finish the boat if Thrasher doesn’t come through. Something else. Point out to her that if the boat doesn’t get finished, everybody at the boatyard is going to be put out of work for at least four months. Finbar has no work until a fishing boat starts building in April. He can’t find another boat to build just on the spur of the moment. The fact is, he would almost certainly go under, and his crew would be out of work permanently. You know what the unemployment rate is around here. They might not work for years.

  “Is all this true, or are you asking me to lie to Maeve?”

  I stood up and slammed down my drink on the table. “Now you listen to me, godammit. You and you alone are the only possible way we could have gotten into this mess. I told you things in confidence, and you betrayed my confidence. All I’m asking you to do now is to try and help contain some of the damage you’ve done.” I braced myself for the assault I knew might come. Then she sagged, and I knew I had won.

  “All right,” she said in a small voice.

  As I left her cottage I felt like a shit, because I knew that Connie was not the cause of our problems; I was. It was I who had betrayed Mark’s confidence when I had told Connie about Thrasher. We had been in bed at the time.

  The following day, Tuesday, Annie called Mark at the boatyard. The cable operator had called back: Delivery had been refused of the telegram Mark had sent to Berkeley Square.

  That evening I told Mark what I had said to Connie.

  “Well,” he said, “I suppose it can’t do any harm, but I don’t really understand what you hope to accomplish.”

  “Two things,” I replied, and they both seemed small to me. “First, if the word does get out, and the right people buy it, Thrasher will be out of the picture for them; they’ll believe they can’t get at him by sabotaging the project. Second, the crew might not walk off the job right away if they think you’re getting the money another way. It could buy us some time, in case Derek does come through.”

  Mark shrugged. “It might help. At least if they hear the story, we’ll know how they got it.”

  The next day, Wednesday, work went on as usual on the yacht. Finbar said nothing about the payment. Then, at half past four, Murray from the bank turned up with another man. Both were carrying brief cases. Finbar went into the office with them. Through the glass partition we could see him shaking his head and arguing with them. The man with Murray seemed to be trying to get Finbar to accept a folded piece of paper. The telephone rang. Finbar answered it and stuck his head into the shop.

  “Captain Robinson, telephone for you.”

  Mark went to the office. I followed and stood in the door. “Yes? This is Captain Robinson.” He listened for a moment. “When?” He listened again. “Thank you very much.” He hung up. He started back into the shop, ignoring Murray and the other man
, then paused. “Oh, Finbar, I nearly forgot.” He walked to where his coat hung on a peg, got his checkbook from a pocket, and dashed off a check. “Here you are,” he said, handing it to Finbar. “Thirty-three thousand, four hundred pounds.”

  Finbar looked as astonished as I did. Mark walked briskly back into the shop with me in tow. I looked back into the office and saw Finbar tuck the paper into Murray’s coat pocket. “I’ll be having a word with your regional manager about this, Mr. Murray,” he said. The two men looked embarrassed.

  I caught up with Mark. “Jesus, is that check good?”

  Mark grinned. “That call was from Messrs. Coutts & Company in London. Fifty thousand pounds has been lodged to my account.” He laughed aloud. “It was delivered in cash by an armored car just at closing time. Blew the manager’s mind, I think.”

  Later, as Mark and I were leaving for the day, Finbar stopped us. “I want you to know that I’d have stood up to the bank as long as I could have. I told Murray I’m going to his boss and complain about the pressure. His boss will have his ass. And the lads are behind you, too. They came to me today and offered to work without wages as long as they could in the hopes of seeing you get the money.”

  “Even Denny O’Donnell?” Mark asked.

  Finbar grinned. “Donal did the talking for them all, but Denny went along.”

  “Well, thank them for me, will you, Finbar? And thank you too for standing up to Murray.”

  “Not at all, Captain, I enjoyed it. And Captain,” Finbar’s face took on a sorrowful expression, “I’m sorry you had to sell the farm. I truly am.”

  Mark patted him on the back. “Not to worry, Finbar. At least we’re sure of being able to finish the boat, now.”

  “Well, Derek came through, and not a moment too soon,” I said as we walked toward the car.

  “Too bloody right, mate.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You came through, too. I think we’ll have a breathing spell, now. They’ll want us to finish the boat.”